


Cleaving Stars

by EmeraldSage



Series: Project Stardust (ID: 11201) [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, And are also, Enhanced People, First Kiss, Government Conspiracy, Government Experimentation, M/M, My Space Nerds, Nailing Real Life Application of Science, Roommates, Rusame Secret Santa 2019, Superhero and Supervillain, This fic turned into a monster, WHO ARE IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER, as per usual, hehe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 09:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: Alfred Jones died in a government lab and Nova rose from his ashes.Nova was a government experiment who freed himself and his fellow victims in a massive explosion.  His purpose is to destroy the government’s experiments, to expose its evils to the world, and he’s branded a villain for the chaos he creates.General Winter is his constant plague and rival, but as things go on, hero and villain begin to grow oddly fond of each other.  Then, the General begins to notice that everything with Nova is not what it seems.  And whatever that is... is darkly connected to one of the most beloved people in his life.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Series: Project Stardust (ID: 11201) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650565
Comments: 7
Kudos: 93





	Cleaving Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eldritch_Exile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldritch_Exile/gifts).



> Hi hi Eldritch_Exile, a belated Happy Holidays! I'm your backup Santa!
> 
> I'm sorry I'm a little late, but I hope you enjoy it! As usual, this fic turned into a bit of a monster, but I love working with these two as a superhero pair!
> 
> Prompt: Alfred and Ivan are roommates but they both have secret identities they keep from each other (superhero/super villain au, any genre, any rating)
> 
> Enjoy!!! And please let me know what y'all think!

He had to run. He had to keep moving.

_The world around him coming apart. Heat burning him like fire coursing through his veins. Heat turning outwards at his fingertips, his hands bleeding white-white-white fire trailing along the walls. Tranquilizer darts devoured into nothingness as the very fabric of space itself bends to his instinctive whims when he throws his hands up to shield himself. Feeling like a clay pot sealed up airtight and left over a fire; like a volcano with an earthen cork plugging him up getting ready to blow._

_Keep going, he repeated, like a mantra in his head, the only thing keeping him sane as his vision grayed around him. As concrete walls crumbled and his legs shook. Keep going._

Footsteps behind him, catching up quickly. He bolted for the roof. In the sky he’d be more visible, but he’d be quicker.

_Keep going, his mind chanted, desperate. It’s your only chance._

_“11201 STOP! Stop running, it’ll make this worse for you!”_

“Nova STOP!”

He climbed, instead.

_He could see the gleam of the scientists glasses, cracked and shattered from his powers exploding around them, staring him down. The guards are armed with tranquilizers - he’s too powerful for them to throw away just yet. He’s their only success, but they can’t control him._

_He’s not going to let them learn how to try._

“NOVA!”

Hmmm, they didn’t send General Winter. More’s the pity.

_He bared his teeth into a vicious parody of a grin._

He grinned. 

_And leapt into the fray_.

“NO - EEP!”

He snickered at the sound of the hero chasing him - young, by the sound of his voice, and inexperienced too, if he hadn’t noticed how Nova had intentionally led him up to the roofing - coming to a screeching halt at the sight of a fifty foot drop.

He pushed away the more traumatic memories in favor of the rapidly rising amusement filling him at the antics of the young hero chasing him. The younger had finally figured out how to traverse the rooftops, though the rapid, rhythmic pace was nothing compared to Nova’s easy roof-eating lope. He snickered and intentionally slowed his pace, letting the hero get closer.

He felt his powers flex as they finally returned to above-reserve level, his powerless dash across the rooftops restoring what had been drained and he grinned. And wordlessly opened a portal just steps ahead of him, leaping through it, just as the hero chasing closed in.

He vanished to the sound of curses turning the air blue, the echoes of his laughter lingering in the frigid air.

* * *

“So, he got away again?”

The young, interning hero who’d been chasing Nova cringed at the accusation, but nodded, slowly, “Yes, General.”

General Winter hummed, broad back facing the younger hero as he stared at the display spread across the command center screen wall. He eyed one in particular, a still image of the split second they caught sight of Nova on camera, making the leap out of one upper level window, fire flickering behind him. It was the barest hint of the young villain, and there were no identifying features at all. Had the young hero who’d been guarding the facility not caught sight of the villain's signature powers at work, they wouldn’t have known who’d committed the attack.

“Understandable,” he said, finally, catching the way the intern’s shoulders slumped in relief, and felt a flash of amusement and pity. The poor thing would’ve never been able to catch Nova - in fact, the whole assignment on the lab had been a milk run; a weak, barely qualified assignment meant for the new incoming ranks of heroes in order to test them. No one had even considered that they’d encounter anything above a low-rank villain. “Head over to your Squad Leader and submit your final report. Dismissed.”

The intern left, gratefully.

Violet eyes gleamed as they studied the pictures still on the screen, a single had coming to flip one screen he’d minimized when the intern had come in, and open it on the central screen.

It was a single page of a single document that one of the hack teams in charge of this particular operation had managed to get. They’d been slow and lazy at work this time, because they hadn’t expected anything too strenuous. Nova was brilliant and capable and shrewd in his actions, and rarely left anything to prove what his motives were, but he didn’t usually go near the technological aspect of things. So, they’d lingered and waited and taken their time retrieving the data from the labs, until they’d realized that there was _someone else_ in the system, copying and scrubbing the data from the grid and panicked.

This was all that was left.

The council for the League was up in arms about the hack, but for all that it had exposed their lax behavior, it had also given them vital new insights.

Nova was working with a hacker. And the fact that they’d never noticed before either meant that it was a new thing, or their complacency in understanding how Nova attacked things had allowed them to miss this _from the beginning_. How much data had they lost to this mysterious hacker? How much information had been scrubbed from the interweb? And how was it connected to Nova’s goals - and why no one had been able to put together what those were.

Another dark screen blinked awake, and a voice mused, “He’s at it again, then?”

He turned to look at the red masked hero smirking at him and raised a brow, “He is, indeed,” he sighed, plopping down in the massive, comfortable office chair now that the intern wasn’t there to gawk at him. “No casualties, no motive, nothing left of what he came for, and no proof that he was even there if the intern on site hadn’t seen him and given chase,” he drawled, “as per usual.”

The hero on screen snickered, “Sucks that you weren’t there, Elsa, he might’ve stayed to play longer.”

He narrowed his eyes into a poisonous glare, satisfied to see the other shiver, even as the smirk refused to drop, “Stuff it you overgrown, self-frying chicken,” he growled.

“Oi, it’s _Phoenix_!” the albino hero protested, before he moved on, smirk returning, “but even you’ve got to admit I’m right.”

“About what?” he said, unimpressed.

“About _Nova_ ,” the jerk snickered, “you know just as well as the League Council that if it had been you on the field, he’d have probably stuck around longer to play with you.”

He scowled darkly at the other, ignoring both the heat rising to his face, and the fact that it was probably true.

Nova was always more playful around him. He teased him, joked with him, and turned effortlessly avoiding him by a _hair_ into an artform. Sometimes, he’d watch the playback of some of their fights. It looked like they were dancing.

Though the League Council hadn’t outright called it that to his face, he’d definitely heard of the betting pool for when he and Nova would take their odd form of flirting to the next level. Forget that they were on different sides of the law. The League Council members had a bet to win.

It may have started off as a distraction technique - lord knows the first time Nova had tried to flirt with him, it’d sent him careening into a wall while Nova flitted away, giggling at the sight - but it had evolved since then. After a few years of trying to catch the wily young villain, and occasionally partnering with him when there was a crisis large enough even the villains tried to help mitigate the situation, he couldn’t quite deny that there were some uncomfortable feelings involved whenever he ran into Nova.

He was mostly sure that it wasn’t unrequited either.

He was _definitely_ sure that he shouldn’t be thinking about that now, either.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something in response - snarl a denial? Laugh it off? He wasn’t sure he’d believe himself, let alone that Phoenix would - his _personal_ phone blared a drunken rendition of the McDonald’s signature jingle. He twitched just as Phoenix started snickering again.

And there was the other half of his uncomfortable feelings.

He swiped to accept the call, hero persona hung up on a metaphorical hook, and accused, without pause, “You changed my ringtone again, Alfred.”

Laughter was his response, “Nope,” his roommate/unrequited love interest sang gleefully, “You did when we got drunk on Sunday.” Phoenix’s laughter grew even _louder_.

Ivan huffed, “Remind me to change my password,” he grumbled, and Alfred laughed even louder.

“You always say that,” he said warmly.

“I’ll do it this time, too.”

“You say that, too.”

“You sound breathless,” Ivan said, concern swamping him in a sudden rush at the very thought, “are you still out?”

“No worries, dude,” his roommate reassured him, “I just got in.”

He threw a glance at the digital numbers lighting up in the corner of one of the main screens, and raised a brow, “It’s nearly two in the morning,” he said, the worry amping up.

“Which is why I called,” his roommate countered, something clinking - probably the keys hitting the bowl, Alfred really must’ve just gotten in - on the other end. “Normally you’re here before me. I’d been wondering why my stake out had been phone-call free.”

Phoenix wheezed, and Ivan sent him a furious glare.

“Another late shift,” he excused away the lateness, already knowing Alfred wouldn’t like it. He didn’t like it either when Alfred’s leads led him to witching hour stake outs and midnight raids on the archives and facilities that would be able to keep any other investigative reporter out, but didn’t last a chance against Al’s determination.

“You’ll have to take some evening shifts off,” his roommate argued back, “this is not healthy for you, dude.”

“Pot, kettle,” Ivan retorted, and snorted when Alfred huffed audibly over the line.

“We haven’t had a decent movie night in _ages_ , Ivan,” his roommate whined, “I’m _deprived_.”

The jerk mimed a whip cracking, snickering over the screen. He leveled a glare at the albino hero that made veteran villains cry, and only received a snicker and raised hands of temporary surrender for his troubles.

“Something wrong, Ivan?”

He twitched, “No, Al, I swear, it’s just some jerk at work who thinks he’s _hilarious_.”

Phoenix’s offended mien settled his rumpled pride quite nicely.

They wrapped up their call shortly after that, Ivan promising he’d be home in a little bit, before disconnecting the call with a sigh.

“You know,” Phoenix said shrewdly after a moment’s silence, “if you just tell him, you’d be able to actually date him. And maybe you’d finally get over this weird flirt/fight thing you do with Nova, no matter how much money the League Council has riding on when you two finally decide to do the dirty.”

General Winter, not Ivan, sighed tiredly, “It’s not that simple,” he said. And that was true for both cases. “I can’t tell Alfred until I’m sure I won’t bring something down on him. And especially now, with Nova ramping up his appearances…. You know that while we all call Nova a villain, we’re well aware that he doesn’t quite fit that definition. And if he’s amping up his attacks, we need to focus on him until we can figure out what he’s after.” Not to mention that what he felt for Nova was hot, a liquid heat that bespoke their desire for something more carnal, a different kind of intimacy than the languid warmth and comfort of _home_ that he got around Alfred, yet so incredibly similar it drove him insane.

Phoenix grimaced, but was quiet for a long moment in silent agreement. Nova was a genuine concern. For all that the young villain had a death toll of zero, and an injury count in the single digits, his attacks were never random. They were long planned and ruthlessly efficient, which was indicative of a larger issue about to be unveiled. And the longer Nova ran unchecked, especially with how his activity had increased against a years-long formed pattern, the more concerned the council became about something exploding in their faces.

“Even so,” his partner sighed, “sooner or later you’ll have to find a way to explain things to him. A detective’s odd hours won’t hold up for much longer with how Nova’s attack pattern is changing.”

He grimaced, “I’ll deal with that when it comes to it,” he said, not liking the lack of a plan, but unable to decide anything as of yet. Anything could happen, after all.

“Then we’ll table this,” Phoenix said, as he pulled up another file from the League and opened it up on their mirrored screens, “And stop worrying about Nova,” the red-vested hero rolled his eyes, “he’ll pop back up eventually.”

* * *

It was almost two hours later - closer to dawn than the witching hour - when he finally made his way home. He was greeted by a flood of lights still on, along with the persistent smell of something about to burn.

 _Home Sweet Home_.

He dropped his keys into the small bowl next to the shoe rack, and kicked his off with a grateful sigh of relief after a long day’s work. He hefted his work bag, still on his shoulder, and made his way towards the kitchen.

Ah, and there he was. All blue eyes and golden hair gleaming in the dim kitchen lighting, illuminated like he was center stage and framed against the strikingly dark backdrop of the star-speckled cityscape behind him. Ivan felt his heart warm at the familiar sight. Alfred’s eyes were focused on the tablet in front of him, scrolling through its contents as he scribbled out notes onto a yellow legal pad on the counter next to him. Which, well, explained a lot about why there was a pot on the stove that was just starting to smoke.

Alfred was usually a pretty good cook. Until he got distracted, at least.

“Alfred,” he said, watching his roommate jump half a foot in the air and shriek, dropping the tablet he’d been perusing with a clatter as he whipped around to stare at him, wild-eyed.

“Christ on a Cracker,” he breathed, “Make some noise when you move, big guy.”

Ivan felt his lips quirk into a smirk, “Dinner’s burning, Alfred.”

“For the love of - !”

The barstool fell to the ground with a clatter as Alfred almost tripped over it trying to get to the stove - which was starting to smoke an odd purple color - and Ivan laughed.

Home Sweet Home, indeed.

* * *

Phoenix’s words had been damn near prophetic. A fortnight had barely passed when Ivan had been called up to duty. A report of Nova being sighted - making his way towards the part of the warehouse district that had been transformed into research lab - had reached the Council within minutes, and they’d called him directly. He’d texted Alfred that he had to leave for work early - though as the journalist had been out chasing his own scoop all night, the likelihood of the younger man waking up before he got back was fairly low - and suited up.

It didn’t take long for him to catch sight of the wily super villain, bouncing across the rooftops, heading out into the city proper in order to get away from the warehouse district. Closing in on the younger’s tail, he stretched his hand out, a ball of icy power growing at his fingertips before he lashed it outwards and _up_.

Impossibly, Nova dodged it, and whirled around, bouncing backwards in time to avoid the grumpy superhero in the gleaming dawn light.

Nova, on his part, only grinned. Goals accomplished, all he had to do was distract and play with General Winter while his hacker did their thing and wiped the system. He was so close to all his plans being realized…

He hopped onto the roof’s fencing, balancing on the slippery industrial steel like it was a two-foot wide low brick wall instead of something akin to a tightrope fifty stories in the air, and grinned at the hero storming over to him.

“You look grumpy, General,” he cooed, “did someone drag you out of bed for little old me?”

“To give you a well deserved time out, Nova,” the General huffed as he made his way to the roof across from the younger man, “I’d have set an alarm myself.”

“Awwww,” he fake-swooned, spinning effortlessly on the metal fence as it wobbled, clasping his hands together under his chin in a falsely-innocent facade, “how sweet.”

“You’ve been up to your usual trouble again,” General Winter said, with the low edge of amusement and reluctant fondness curling over his voice as he finally launched himself at the smirking villain, who laughed as he backflipped onto the cement and then bolted off to a lower, fence-free roof. Warmth curled in his stomach as he caught the hero rolling his eyes at the unnecessarily showy move that had become characteristic of Nova’s actions with him.

“Have you been worried about me _Ge-ne-ral_?” he said tauntingly, darting backwards as a rope of ice lashed out, turning the ground where he’d been standing into a slippery hellscape when the General’s powers spiked. “You shouldn’t be. I’m a _big boy_ , you know.”

“Of that,” he heard come from off to his side, and he darted away just in time to avoid the leap, “I have no doubts.”

He tossed a leering smirk over his shoulder, as General Winter stared him down with dark eyes. He turned, angling himself away in case he needed to run, but deliberately accenting his position.

The General’s eyes darkened and he didn’t bother hiding the smirk widening on his lips. Oh, how he loved playing with this hero. He wished they could do more than taunt and tease, sometimes, but until all his goals were achieved, he couldn’t risk anything. Not to mention, that the General was only half the situation.

There was Ivan to factor in, too.

He shoved that thought to the back of his mind for later, and refocused, letting the smirk turn languid and inviting, “I don’t usually like generals,” he drawled, syrupy sweet and mocking, “but I think I can make an exception for _you_. What do you think?”

“Breaking laws again,” his opponent hummed, and Nova pouted.

“Awww, c’mon,” he whined. He would not stand for this injustice. “There wasn’t even any property damage this time!”

“ _This time_ , he says,” the hero grumbled, “There shouldn’t be _any_ property damage.”

Nova shrugged at that, bouncing off again when General Winter got too close, “Well, I can’t help that,” he said, “can’t get anything done otherwise.”

“And just what, _exactly_ , are you trying to get done?” General Winter drawled, taking his own leap to get closer to the grinning villain.

Nova laughed, smile curling into something sly and secretive, “Now,” he said, “what’s the point of telling _you_ that?”

“Understanding _you_ ,” the General retorted, as the pair of them came to a halt in their game of tag, facing each other with two roofs between them. “Understanding what drives you. Of all the people we fight, you’re one of the few we don’t know _why you do it_.”

Nova looked at him, head tilting to the side and considering him. After a solid minute, when the General thought he wouldn’t get an answer, Nova finally said, “Justice.”

The General blinked, startled, but Nova pushed away the surge of pain and mourning that came at the mere thought of _before_. Justice drove him; justice for him, for those who’d been victims like him, but unable to pursue it on their own. Justice for those who hadn’t been able to make it out with them. For those who’d died long before they’d even had the chance.

“Justice?” The General echoed, “what do you mean?”

Nova’s next smile wasn’t anywhere near as brilliant as his usual ones. It was tired, and he knew it. He laughed, “That’s not what they would call it, of course,” he said, redirecting the thought, “but that’s what it is.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

“Wouldn’t you like to kn-,”

He froze mid-sentence, arm coming up just as he went pale all over. The sudden freeze drew the General’s attention and his eyes sharpened.

Nova crumpled.

He could see General Winter’s eyes widen, startled and panicky as the hero bolted for him, but he couldn’t pay it much attention. There was a starburst of pain that had enveloped him, and he curled around himself as it flared throughout his body. It was like that first invasive experiment, back nearly a _decade_ ago, when he hadn’t adjusted to the pain that filled his veins, frying him like a vulnerable world in the path of a solar flare.

Burning him with starfire and remaking him anew.

He brought an arm up - like a moving fly through amber, it _ached_ , it _burned_ , but it moved - and wrapped it around his mouth as if to block his scream.

He coughed instead.

It was vicious, ripping through him as he curled tighter around himself, leaning into methods he’d thought long forgotten to block off the pain and force it back. He felt like his throat was shredding, something inside him flaring painfully and condensing, forcing his body to reject it.

It seemed to go on forever.

He blinked back to awareness to the General’s fervent shouts, the fear and worry in the undertone, and felt the ping of someone pushing against his powers. He blinked again, and stared.

General Winter was pounding on a thin shimmering barrier that had encircled Nova and the rooftop around him. It must’ve been subconscious, he realized, a spike of worry pulsing through him at the realization. His grip on light construction was usually phenomenal, but for it to have happened without intent….

He looked down into his palm and saw blood dripping down onto the cement, saturating his glove fabric, and swallowed.

He needed to get to Arthur right now. Something was very, _very_ wrong.

* * *

General Winter watched Nova portal away, eyeing the specks of blood splatter that had shattered the faceoff between the two of them with something beyond the expect concern of another human being.

Something was _wrong_. 

Nova hadn’t run from a fight like this in _years_ , and not from him, _ever_.

And that moment...that split second where he’d collapsed...

His comm buzzed in his ear, and Phoenix’s voice came online, “Did that just happen?” he demanded incredulously, “What the fuck was that, Snow Cone?”

“That,” he said slowly, mind running at a hundred miles per hour, “is the sign something’s gone wrong.”

There was another moment of heavy silence.

“Get me the video records of Nova’s fights. Every single one from the last six months.”

Something was very wrong, and he needed to know what it was.

* * *

The green-eyed doctor stared at the test results in his hand, and looked up at the young vigilante curled up in the visitor’s chair in his private office. He sighed, long and slow and Alfred, with the knowledge of having known the other man for years, already knew what that meant.

He couldn’t say it, though. Not now. So he waited.

After a moment’s silence, Arthur said, “I was worried about this.”

“About what?”

Silently, Arthur withdrew an old, worn manila folder from a locked drawer in his desk, the dusty black ink labeling _Project Stardust (ID: 11201)_ gleaming in the low lamp light. Alfred felt something in his gut clench, before shoved the feeling away, walling off the well of desolation that nearly swarmed him at the thought of being remotely right about what was happening. Arthur flipped open the old folder, rifling through the yellowing pages until he came across what he was looking for, and stared for a solid minute, before he sighed.

“Your powers are becoming more unstable,” he murmured softly, apologetically, in the silence of the clinic, “You’ll be able to use them as normal, of course. Your control over them will not falter. But your body _will_ be affected.”

Alfred bit his lips, eyes hard, and steeled himself, “How bad?”

Arthur’s eyes were sad, “It will look like cancer to anyone unaware,” the doctor - the _scientist_ \- said softly, an apology in his eyes as Alfred forced himself not to freeze, “but in reality, it’s your powers lashing out at your body. It’s a genetic imbalance that’s corrupting the cells.”

Alfred exhaled slowly, forcing tense muscles to relax. “Is there any way to fix it?”

He tried not to sound too desperate. He really tried. He hadn’t survived everything the labs had thrown at him, only to die of it when he was finally able to use his abilities to bring them to justice. To finally make peace with what had been done to him, to the countless others who’d suffered and died in the government’s pursuit of power and the desire for control.

Whatever was or wasn’t on his face, Arthur softened sadly, and that was answer enough.

“There is a serum,” Arthur hummed to himself, contemplative, “Or at least, there was one that was planned. It was meant as a leash, to keep you in check. You’ve long since proved the risk of enhancing people to use as weapons - without a leash to keep their own ambitions in check, they would’ve lost you to your own free will. A waste of resources in their mind. I had hoped that, since they hadn’t fully developed it when I’d left, you hadn’t progressed in the trials enough for you to have needed it.”

Alfred’s fists clenched tightly with the wave of realization, of understanding what was going to happen locked away beyond miles of walls in his mind, so he forced them loose and exhaled. He had to keep himself calm. “Would they have made one for the others?” he asked, forcing the grief away, “Would they have this problem as well?” Because that was a terrifying reality to even consider. He’d have to activate the tree…

But Arthur was shaking his head, “No,” he said, “the issue is entirely based on the frequent usage of your powers. You, who use them on practically a daily basis and to their maximum ability, exacerbate your body’s condition. Someone who uses their abilities sparingly, or not at all, would likely never see the effects. And given that of everyone working on this project, most can’t be seen using their powers, hardly anyone will run this risk. Not to mention, that by the time they do see effects, a cure can be developed, especially now that we’re aware.”

Some good news, at least.

A cold shiver darted through his spine as he considered what Arthur had just told him, “If I don’t use my powers,” he asked, hesitant, “will my condition ease up?” It was a futile question; he couldn’t stop using his abilities, especially now that they were so close to finding answers and bringing all their plans to fruition. But he had to _know_. He had to understand exactly what he was risking.

Even if it wouldn’t change a thing.

The way Arthur wouldn’t quite look at him - the way he never could after the elder man had helped them break out of their prison, even though he’d been a part of the science team who’d studied them, rewired parts of their genetic code, and designed the flaw that was killing him now… - gave him his answer.

“I’m sorry, Alfred,” the doctor said quietly, “At your stage, you’d have to go completely cold turkey. And even then, I doubt it would work quickly enough to ease up the degradation. You need a cure.”

 _And I don’t have one for you. I’m sorry_.

“It’s alright,” Alfred said numbly. _It wasn’t_. “At least now I know I’ve got a deadline.” _Emphasis on ‘dead,’_ his mind muttered mutinously, the rest of him achingly cold. “Can you help me measure how much longer I’ve got?”

Arthur exhaled slowly, eyeing him with an unknown emotion flickering through his eyes. After a moment’s silence, he nodded, “Let’s run some more tests, and I’ll see what we can do.”

And, for now, that was all they _could_ do.

* * *

“Are you alright?”

Alfred smiled weakly at his roommate/wistful domestic life partner, “I’m fine,” he said. Though judging by the skeptical look in Ivan’s eyes, it was far from convincing. “Really.”

A single ashy-blond brow rose, unimpressed, “Really?” he asked, dryly.

“Really,” Alfred insisted, “it’s just been a long day at work.”

Ivan’s face somehow became even _more_ unimpressed.

“I got assigned a deadline, that’s all,” he said casually, not daring to show even a fraction of the terror and drive that word was beginning to etch into his bones, “so I’m gonna go kind of crazy over the next few weeks.”

Ivan snorted, relaxing his stance at last, “As if it’s anything I haven’t seen before,” he drawled, turning his attention back towards the wonderfully smelling pot on the stove in front of him. Alfred almost fainted from the sheer relief. If anyone could figure out something was wrong with him, it would’ve been Ivan.

But now, anything Ivan noticed in his odd behavior could be attributed to his upcoming deadline. And he _did_ have one. He had to compile the last of the information, write out the article that would go live the moment the last of the compounds were taken down, and activate the tree. He’d thought he had months left, maybe even a year before he needed to finalize everything. He’d wanted to be thorough and leave no stone untouched. But now, he’d have to do it all in a fraction of the time. Arthur hadn’t been able to give him a timeline, after all.

“Hey,” he said, dragging Ivan’s attention back to him, “work gave me tomorrow morning off -,” which they had, “do you want to do movie night tonight? I know you’re working Saturday ....” Ivan beamed at him, and that was answer enough.

One more night of normalcy. And then, once more unto the breach.

* * *

Alfred was sick.

Ivan knew it wasn’t something normal - it certainly didn’t act like a normal sickness to any would-be observers - but it was undeniably an illness. Alfred was prone to headaches, and was always bruised somehow; that was normal given his profession required a lot of hands on investigation.

(The number of times Ivan-as-General Winter had caught sight of Alfred climbing fences, crouching behind boxes in a corner, and landing hard after jumping and running away from various goons didn’t bear repeating).

But there was something _disquieting_ about how Alfred would stop his rant about infuriating higher ups burning records and heresy mid-word, almost bringing a hand to press hard against his head in a flinch of sudden, overwhelming pain. There was something _unnerving_ about coming home past midnight and seeing Alfred’s dinner plate half-eaten, showing how his appetite had waned. There was something _frightening_ about how one night, Ivan had seen Alfred reappear from his shower shirtless, towelling down, with twice as many bruises as when he’d gone in, all in odd places. It became something panic inducing when he’d snuck into the shower after Alfred had closed the room door to change and had seen the hints of blood gleaming against the drain.

And then Alfred would smile at him, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and assured him it would be fine. He was seeing a doctor he knew at the clinic (though pointedly never mentioned which one), there was nothing wrong.

At first, Ivan had believed him. And as the month went on, it got _worse_.

One night, coming back from a rigorous patrol searching from an increasingly absent Nova, he’d walked in on Alfred coughing blood into an already-bloodied towel.

But Alfred would tell him _nothing_. It was so much stress, just watching his roommate go through something and never let him in. In addition to the chaos of Alfred’s increasingly dangerous research project, and the new whisper campaign emerging in the city about Nova, who’d disappeared in the wind after a disquieting appearance...well.

It was a dangerously unhappy Ivan that vanished into a patrol a month into this chaos, the same night he was due for quite an odd break in the status quo.

* * *

“Well,” a husky voice mused, “this is quite a surprise.”

Alfred felt his lips curve into a smile and didn’t turn. Instead he set the half-filled wine glass he’d been nursing - just strong enough to overwrite the taste of blood at the back of his throat that never seemed to go away - off to the side with a soft clink. He crossed his legs as they dangled over the forty story drop, planting his free hand against aged concrete and metal, its texture rough even through his glove, as he heard booted footsteps approach him. But it was only when the sound stopped - _close,_ his senses whispered to him _, too close_ \- that he turned his head to look at his rival.

“Come to join the party?” he asked slyly, lips curling into a smirk as he stared at General Winter's unimpressed face.

“And break the statute of public consumption?” the hero retorted, tartly. Alfred laughed.

“Well, you’re all determined to make everything I do illegal, so why not?” He almost laughed again when he heard the General’s aggressive sigh.

 _This could be interesting_.

Ivan, on his part, certainly hadn’t been expecting this kind of a scenario when he’d set out for an evening patrol. Nova hadn’t been spotted in almost a month, and in that time a hush had spilled across the city as everyone and their friends whispered about what that could mean for the young man’s - young _villain_ ’s, he reminded himself, though the more he learned, the less that label seemed to fit him - plans. Especially since the last time anyone had seen Nova, he’d been coughing blood with no injuries to justify it. It had terrified all of Nova’s quiet supporters, and worried the Council into gray-hair territory wondering what Nova was getting into that was having such an effect on him.

Finding Nova indulging in a glass of wine on top of a skyscraper had not been at all how he’d been preparing to encounter the other.

“Speaking of illegal,” he said, dragging himself back to reality, and ignoring the way Nova was rolling his eyes under his mask - _don’t ask him how he knew, he could just tell_ , “what should I be expecting tonight? Something big since it seems you’re in a good mood.”

Nova pouted at the accusation, the curl of his lips just visible under the domino mask covering the top half of his face. Ivan felt the odd sensation he’d long since learned to ignore twist within his gut. No time for that kind of thought process right now.

“Can’t a boy just enjoy his drink, General?” the young villain laughed, tumbling words together into something languid and warm, “I’m not up to anything tonight, scout’s honor.”

Ivan snorted, crossing his arms, “Were you ever even a boy scout?” he drawled.

Nova frowned at him, playfully chiding, before he laughed again, “I could’ve been,” he mused, amusement subsiding, “I can’t be sure, though. I don’t remember much of life before the labs.”

A shiver danced down Ivan’s spine as the air around them abruptly chilled. He felt like ice all over. “What do you mean, _the labs_?” he demanded, a cold hand gripping and twisting his stomach tightly.

An arched brow rose, golden bled steel under moonlight, over his rival’s mask, “Didn’t you know, darlin’?” Nova chimed, falsely charming with something sharp in his smile, “You never connected the dots? Never realized the link between all my targets? All the people I go after, and all the naysayers who try to villainize me without ever talking about what I went after? It never crossed your mind to even _wonder_?”

Abruptly, Ivan was thrown back to that conversation - that disconcerting conversation that had sent shivers down his spine with the implications of it - that he’d had with Alfred a few weeks ago.

The conversation where he’d watched Alfred painstakingly copy his notes in triplicate - that he could see at least, he’d be damned if Alfred didn’t have at least two digital copies hidden somewhere in the depths of cyberspace - writing out connection after connection of something so big that he didn’t even dare tell Ivan, for fear that it would lead to him being targeted. The conversation where Alfred had looked at him hard, those ever moving hands still and tense, and told him that there was a chance Alfred would disappear. The conversation where Alfred had told Ivan to activate his will if he was gone for more than 48 hours without word. Where he’d had to sing on as the will’s executor. Where Alfred had told him, _“I think there’s a coverup - it’s something huge, Ivan. And Nova knows about it. If you can’t find me, and you can’t find him, don’t look any farther. They’ll find you first._ ”

Nova cocked his head, considering the still hero in front of him. He hummed, “So, you do know something.”

Ivan exhaled slowly. “There’s a - reporter,” he said, hesitant, even as Nova’s gaze sharpened, “He’s said some things, implied a few more that made me suspicious. Of what yet, I’m not sure. He wouldn’t say much.”

Nova huffed, “That he said anything at all is a surprise,” the villain murmured, turning his gaze out over the city, eyes going distant, “Especially with the government watching the lot of them so closely. It’s not safe to be a journalist these days, much less an investigative one.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at that soft declaration, and Ivan felt cold. There were hundreds of investigative reporters that followed the heroes around on a daily basis, _thousands_ , even, within inner city limits alone. And yet, from what it sounded, Nova _knew_ exactly whom Ivan was talking about. “I’m surprised he hasn’t been picked up yet,” the younger sighed, “your _reporter_.”

Even the sudden spike of terror at the very thought of the government snatching Alfred away in the dead of the night couldn’t stop him from noting the odd pause Nova had left before the word “reporter.”

“He’s very discrete,” Ivan said instead of pursuing that odd thought. “I don’t even know what he’s looking into, only that it’s dangerous, and it has something to do with you.”

At that pointed jab, Nova smiled tiredly, glancing back over at Ivan. “It does, indeed,” he agreed softly. He turned his gaze again, looking out over the massive city they both protected, in their own ways, and seemed to soften. And, for a moment, things seemed to calm.

“Keep him safe,” Nova said, suddenly, and Ivan blinked. _What?_ Nova side-eyed him, and he almost flushed, realizing that he’d said it out loud.

“Your reporter,” the younger clarified, an odd smile quirking on his lips, “keep an eye on him. He’s getting closer to his answers, and the closer he is, the more of a danger he becomes. Watch him.”

And before Ivan could say a word in response to that particularly terrifying declaration, Nova pushed off from where he’d been perched, and jumped. And vanished.

Leaving Ivan contemplating a head full of treacherous secrets and a heart laden with worry. And a bottle of wine.

* * *

When Ivan came home that night, Alfred had been home for hours. He’d opened a bottle of cider and was back at scribbling in one of the multitude of notebooks that littered the living room’s coffee table-turned-investigation-desk. There were dark circles under his eyes that told Ivan that the journalist was pulling yet another one of his all-nighters to pursue whatever he was going after, even if the air around him was oddly more relaxed than anything he’d seen in a while.

After a minute of staring at his Alfred- who didn’t notice - he sighed, and dropped his bag by the door. He headed into the kitchen to grab a drink of his own and then plopped straight onto the couch right next to his startled roommate, snatching the remote for their smart TV to turn on Netflix. And despite his protests, Alfred’s smile was relieved as the younger slipped the pen into the center of his notebook and flipped it closed.

They could both use a bit of a break today.

Of course, even as they settled in, no matter how much he prided himself on his observational skills, there are things he doesn’t notice. For one, he didn’t notice that while Alfred was tired and spread out all over the living room, he hadn’t been at the level of tunnel-zoned he usually got to after 6 hours or more of straight work. He didn’t notice, without his usual level of hypervigilance, that the stack of bloody tissues in the trash can Alfred had been using was _significantly_ larger than it had been this morning. He didn’t notice, as he’d gone in for the bottle of vodka he usually prefered, that a bottle of wine from their admittedly limited stash had gone missing. And since he didn’t, he also didn’t notice that it was the same bottle of wine he’d seen at some point earlier that evening.

No, Ivan - tired, hungry, with his mind in a very dark and heavy place - didn’t notice any of the little oddities that might’ve added pieces to the puzzle he was slowly building in his head.

Alfred, slowly piecing together pieces of his own puzzle, knew that. So he simply smiled wider.

* * *

It’s only a week later when Ivan realized just how serious Nova had been when he’d told the General to keep an eye on Alfred.

Alfred’s research had been going exceedingly well - which was concerning, more often than not, to Ivan who watched anxiously with Nova’s words in mind - but it had also led the younger man to compromise on his health in the process, even in addition to the mysterious cough. He’d finally reached a point in his research where he’d stalled a bit, and had allowed Ivan to drag him out to a diner so they could get out of the chaotic, tense environment that their apartment had turned into the longer and more frantic Alfred’s research had gone.

They’d gone to the diner for Al’s favorite burgers, where his whole face had lit up and made him look five years younger. They’d gone to the bar down near the harbor which was the only place they stocked Ivan’s favorite vodka, where the bartender had eyed them knowingly. And then, they’d walked around the boardwalk, watching the street plays and buskers and artists paint the night warm and content as the air filled with laughter. Alfred had won one of those silly boardwalk games, throwing a baseball and knocking over an entire tower of milk bottles so hard they cracked, before laughing it off and giving the enormous plush to a kid who’d been staring at it mournfully. They’d both looked at each other, smiled, and Ivan tried very hard not to think of how perfect a date this was.

Or could’ve been. Because, you know, they weren’t actually dating.

But Alfred laughed at something a pair of kids were doing across the way, their frazzled parents torn between embarrassment and hilarity, and Ivan pushed the thought out of his mind and set to enjoying the rest of their precious evening together.

It was as they were walking back to their apartment - their too-small apartment with too much tension and chaos and reality driving home the cracks in their facade of normality that were forming - when the first frisson of unease raced through his body. Ivan blinked, eyes darting around quickly to take in the scene around them - they’d moved from the harbor and boardwalk closer to the inner city area - but nothing registered to him as off.

“Ivan?”

Something was wrong.

“Ivaaaaan?”

He blinked. They’d stopped moving. Alfred was staring at him.

“Back with us, buddy?”

“Yes,” he said, hesitant, before shaking himself off. It was probably nothing, “Yes, I’m sorry, I was just lost in thought.”

Alfred’s eyes narrowed, but he shrugged, “No worries, dude, happens to all of us,” he assured Ivan, although the platinum-blond was still unsure if Alfred believed him.

“Of course,” he agreed hastily, turning back to face the street ahead of them, tightening his grip on Alfred’s hand, “what was it you were saying?” Because Alfred had been rambling about some missing records in the main library archive, and a potential trip out to some west coast military base he didn’t want to go near….

“ _You_ were just starting some sort of comment about organization in the community records,” Alfred countered, amusement coloring his expression and his tone, “when you drifted off on me.”

Ah, yes, he _did_ remember that now.

“Well, it’s not like they’re very well organized,” he said, “you were talking about the chaos in the actual archives, but at least they have some kind of system. The records in our back room are just kind of dumped in coordinating piles until someone ships it to the archive for the librarians to handle.” He tried not to sound disgusted by the casual sloppiness. Alfred’s face told him he was not successful.

Alfred lifted his free hand to try and cover the grin that was growing on his face. Ivan appreciated the attempt. “Those poor librarians,” he said, amusement thick in his voice as Ivan side-eyed him wryly.

“God only knows what they want the records for, sometimes,” Ivan said, continuing on his rant, “Some of the stuff they ask for is somewhat nonsensical. And you know the way the government handles information they don’t want getting out - it’s easy enough to access the archives, and there’s so much material, with not nearly enough librarians to take stock of it every day.”

“Don’t I know it,” Alfred grumbled, his own recent, fruitless, archival research binge coming to mind.

“But there’s a new shipment getting sent off tomorrow,” Ivan continued, “and they dragged me in to help organize since most of the beat cops they’d normally assign to the thing were helping with the clean up from Valentine’s latest shenanigans. So I spent my entire day reading about abandoned warehouses and suspicious activity by the old military compound that they haven’t been able to get a read on, amongst other th-,” he stopped.

Alfred had frozen.

He turned again to face his roommate, concern thrumming through his veins, “Alfred?”

No response.

“Alfred? Alfred, you’re worrying me.” Was it another headache? Something worse? Was it something he’d said?

When Alfred spoke, it was barely a whisper in the wind, “There’s a military compound in the city?” he asked. His voice was _shaking_.

Something was _very_ wrong.

“Sometimes I forget that you moved her only a few years ago,” he said, trying to regain the normal levity around the pair of them, “Yes, there was an old compound on the edge of the city. It closed down the year before you moved here. Though, there have always been reports of suspicious activity around there, it’s never been anything the police have found concerning.”

“No,” Alfred whispered, “no, they wouldn’t have.”

Okay. _That_ was alarming.

“Alfred?”

“I have to go,” he said slowly, and Ivan’s heart rate spiked, “Ivan, I have to get to my office.” The office they’d passed a block back. They were almost home. “I left my work phone there, it has something I need.”

Honestly, he wanted to protest. Something was telling him to stay close to Alfred. Something was telling him that there was _something_ very, very wrong. But Alfred’s eyes had cleared and now they were determined, almost gleaming in the dark of the street. So Ivan sighed, “Alright,” he said, “just let me know when you get there, okay? It’s late.”

They could both take care of themselves, of course. But it didn’t mean Ivan didn’t worry.

Alfred grinned, though the expression fell short of the mirth it usually held, and agreed.

Ivan watched until he went out of sight, and then sighed. Well, at least their night had been good. He’d even gotten Alfred’s mind off of research until one odd comment had thrown it right back into chaos. He’d call Alfred once he got back home, just to check on him. Maybe clean up a bit so the clumsy idiot didn’t trip over that pile of shoeboxes they were currently using as a lamp again…

He made it half a block before a shiver wracked his body, and every hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

Something was very, _very_ wrong.

 _“Keep him safe_.”

 _Oh god_ , his face blanched, _Alfred_.

He spun on his heel and bolted back down the street from where they’d come.

* * *

He’d made it _just_ in time. Even a handful of seconds later and they would’ve been gone.

He’d bolted down the streets, looking for a gleam of gold, and if he hadn’t heard the soft scrape in the quiet of the night, he would’ve missed them entirely. He’d entered the alleyway in time to see a man - some paid good, no doubt - heft an unconscious Alfred over his shoulder, while his partner tucked a used syringe into his pocket. They’d been about to leave.

But Ivan didn’t hold his title as one of the strongest enhanced heroes in the league for no reason, and he was able to knock them off of his roommate without too much issue. Unfortunately, they’d retreated before he was able to knock them _out_ , and call headquarters in to process them in order to figure out who was after his roommate. But at the moment, he didn’t quite care. He had priorities.

Nova had warned him about the eyes on Alfred. Had told him to watch him, to keep him safe. And because Ivan hadn’t listened to his instincts, he’d almost lost one of the most precious people in his life.

He pushed past the panic and forced himself to _think_. Okay. Alfred had been given a shot of something - likely it was a sedative, but he’d have to check. And given that he didn’t know _who_ was after Alfred - God, why couldn’t Nova have been more _specific_ \- he didn’t know if he could risk taking him to a regular hospital. Anyone could have access if they even vaguely heard he was there. Government and private hospitals alike were a problem. Maybe a clinic? Alfred had one he went to, he knew the doctor who ran the place, but Ivan had never been able to remember the man’s name…

A solution hit him like a cannonball.

He sent a text with shaking fingers, and then gently hefted Alfred into his arms. And then ran.

* * *

Alfred woke up to a panicked, whispered discussion that would’ve been carried out in bellows had it been in any other location. It only took him half a minute of eavesdropping before he realizes what’s going on.

Instead of waking up in chains and suppression cuffs right back where he started, five years gone, he’s resting on an infirmary mattress. Not hospital standard, he recognizes, but far from the rail thin pallets that populate the bleak, hopeless room back in the labs. It was definitely something like what he’d seen in Arthur’s clinic. He wasn’t in Arthur’s clinic, or the doc would’ve realized by now that he was awake; he never missed a trick, that man. They’d been so lucky to have him on their side.

He was still fully dressed, too. His jacket was missing, the long-sleeve he was wearing rolled up till the elbows, and there were bandages in places under his clothes, but he was still _dressed_ , and that matters. There was salve and bandages on the rougher scrapes he’d gotten from the surprise attack, and a little bit of cotton fluff taped over the vein in the crook of his elbow. So, someone had taken his blood. Given that he’d been drugged, it wouldn’t have surprised him. But his mind still noted that concern for later.

It was Ivan’s voice on the whispers that reassured him, at least for now, that he was safe.

“ - that was an _elephant grade_ knockout agent, Braginsky. He should be comatose or _dead_ , not to even talk about his recovery rate. For the love of God, why can’t you have normal friends?!”

“I’m not even going there. Yao, he’s a _journalist_ , even if they were targeting him, there’s no way -,”

 _Yao_.

 _Wang Yao_. _The Red Dragon. The only medically certified and licensed hero on record to open his doors to anyone who needed him. Trusted by the enhanced community, wary of the government. The League’s first choice of doctor._

That’s when all the pieces clicked into place, and like a kaleidoscope shifting, suddenly he could _see_.

 _Oh_ , his heart murmured, wonderous and tremulous all the same.

 _Oh_ , his mind considered, _this could be a problem._

On the one hand, the hot hero he’d been blatantly flirting with and irritatingly fond of was also his roommate who he’d fallen in love with years ago. He didn’t have a crush on two different people, but two sides of _the same one_. Great.

Except that _he was NOVA_.

Lovely.

And that wasn’t even considering the fact that Yao had clearly spotted the odd anomalies in his blood, and probably wouldn’t let him go without an answer. Privacy only went so far with conspiracies afoot, although he was fairly sure the doc wouldn’t rat him out to the Council.

“ - his DNA, Ivan!” the doctor was whisper-hissing, “There’s no way that’s natural! Even in enhanced people, that kind of genetic alteration has to be a result of experimentation.”

“Thanks for that,” he said hoarsely, grimacing at the sandpapery quality of his voice, startling both Ivan and Yao, who turned to stare at him as he pushed himself up. “Then again, it’s not like you’re wrong.”

Ivan emitted an odd, strangled noise at that particular admission.

“You’re enhanced?” Yao - _Dr. Wang_ \- asked him warily.

He nodded, “Got lucky out of my batch,” he said, “healing and some gravity manipulation.”

The doctor’s eyes narrowed, “Out of your _batch_?”

“There are a lot of us,” he admitted with a casual shrug, willfully ignoring the doctor and Ivan’s dumbfounded gawping, “I’m pretty sure most of us are out, so we’d really appreciate it if you didn’t mention it. Like, seriously. Don’t say anything.”

Dr. Wang pinched the bridge of his nose, stemming a headache, as he sighed. “There are more than just you?” he said, finally.

“Way too many,” Alfred acknowledged, catching how the lines around Yao’s eyes tightened and Ivan’s shoulders straightened. “I really appreciate your help, doc, but if you try and bring it up, it’ll just let the higher ups know that some of us are still out here. We’re pretty sure they’re aware, but as long as we don’t do anything, they’re willing to let us be. For now, at least.” And that wasn’t something Alfred liked to think about. Bad enough he knew that he had an expiration date planned from when he’d been a _kid_ , but that the others - who had been considered _disposable_ , where he hadn’t been given the success of the experiments on him - might be even worse wasn’t a happy thought.

“This is what you’re researching, isn’t it?” Ivan’s voice was hoarse and pointed, “That’s why you’re so concerned. They’ll leave you alone if you leave it be, but you’re not happy with that.”

Alfred raised a pointed brow, “I’m a damn journalist, Ivan,” he said, a hint of a scowl on his face, “the fact that our program even existed was an abomination. The fact that no one knows about it is even worse.”

Ivan scowled, opened his mouth to say something, but Yao cut him off.

“You two can continue your lovers’ spat at home,” he inserted pointedly, causing both of them to back off and flush, “Braginsky, move. Let me check over my patient before you two go at it again.”

* * *

They’d argued once they’d gotten home. The tension from their discussion in the clinic had boiled over, and with no curious or prying eyes in the safety of their apartment, they’d felt free enough to let loose.

It had been one of the worst arguments they’d ever had, if not _the_ worst.

Ivan’s argument had been simple and understandable - especially to Alfred, who now had the full picture of who he was talking to - they needed to _tell someone_. Someone trustworthy, of course (and to Ivan, Alfred thought uncharitably, that included the Enhanced League and its Council), but they needed to let someone know about the risks Alfred was taking so that he could be protected. And if they couldn’t do that, Alfred needed to _stop looking_ , because it was too dangerous.

The conversation probably wouldn’t have escalated to the point it did if Alfred hadn’t laughed at that. But _god,_ it had just felt so unreal to be lectured by this hero, of all heroes, about trust in the system. He was an _investigative journalist_ , for crying out loud! His whole purpose as part of the fourth estate was to _expose the system_ when it tried to bully past the laws.

And that was exactly what he told Ivan. Who _did not take it well_.

They were going to get a noise complaint with how loud they were yelling at each other, his mind mused absently.

After all, when they fought? They _fought_.

It was the reason they made for such potent enemies, and yet, such a devastating combination as allies. If they hadn’t been totally gone on each other - and that was something he wasn’t touching with a ten foot pole, given his current deadline (emphasis on _dead_ ) - they probably would’ve been numbering in the top ten list of “do not let near each other,” like when Valentine and Verdant were ever in each other’s vicinity.

Thank god Arthur retired from that shit years ago.

But ultimately, Ivan couldn’t force him to tell anyone. And without any of the evidence - Alfred’s hoard notwithstanding - that Alfred had ranted to them about, he couldn’t bring it up to the Council and force the protection on it. Alfred was a grown-ass man, and Ivan had to accept that in this case, even if it wrankled the man’s overprotective tendencies.

Not that Alfred had thought he’d heard the last of it from Ivan. But unfortunately for his violet-eyed friend and rival, Alfred was on a _deadline_. And he’d just gotten the key piece of information he was looking for.

One way or another, Ivan wouldn’t have to worry for very long. Although, when the dust cleared, Alfred highly doubted he’d like the end results.

* * *

Ivan’s only warning was a text message, and then everything went to hell.

He and Alfred had been arguing again, before he’d gone off to the League headquarters to meet up with a patrol team. There had been a variety of things they’d argued about, the sickness, the project, the lack of protection...it went on. But Alfred had gotten a phone call mid-way through their argument, and had _frozen_ before he’d shut himself in his room to take it. Ivan had left in a huff, frustration and worry bleeding into the state of anxiety and tension he’d been in for weeks now.

And then a one-word text from Alfred, _Sorry_ , before something _exploded_ just on the outskirts of the city proper.

Hellfire, bright and pale white/blue that showed the true heat of it, raced across the massive compound that had been set alight. _The military compound_ , he realized, the one Alfred had been looking into lately, and he pushed himself even harder to run, until one of the other heroes on the patrol team grabbed him and portaled them all as close to the site as they could without being barbequed.

Phoenix was on site, pale skin even whiter as he bolted for them, “I’m keeping the fire localized,” he shouted above the roar of flames, “We did the life scan, there’s two people fighting in one of the auxiliary buildings!”

Right in the middle of the flames. Great.

The four heroes on patrol looked at each other and one of them, Haze, who could project force-fields and illusions, and was also their current field commander, sighed and nodded.

Since Bounce, their warper, couldn’t portal them in blind without the risk of throwing them straight into the fire, they snuck in. Haze wrapped a forcefield around the four of them, wrapping the thought of _we’re not here, don’t look, nothing to see_ , and protection to keep them safe from the flames long enough for General Winter to freeze the flames. They snuck in as silently as they could, the red alerts flashing through the entire building reflecting off of the white flames, creating a red haze.

Just in front, off to the side of them, a wall crumbled and a body was thrown right through it, crashing into the wall on the other side of the corridor, reducing it to crumbling rubble as well. The groan that came from the poor victim of that throw earned an emphatic wince of sympathy from the four heroes who made a career out of throwing and being thrown into walls. But as the person pulled themselves out of the rubble, they all froze.

It was Nova.

The young villain picked himself up from the heap of rubble he’d been thrown into. He was battered and bruised and bloody, his usual uniform shredded in places, and seared down in others. The beanie he usually wore, it seemed, concealed a shock of amber-gold hair that gleamed in the low-light without it. Blue eyes behind the smoke smudged mask glared out, glowing and hard.

A glut of hellfire launched at him, but Nova was quick. He clapped both hands together in front of him, and a black hole rippled in front of him, devouring the fire before they could as much as shout in alarm. It rippled back into nonexistence just as another one appeared and he vanished through it seamlessly. The renewed sounds of fighting, and the particularly deafening noise of a wall crumpling easily told them where he’d gone.

They bolted towards the sound, and froze as they hit the next room.

It was cavernous - likely the massive mess hall for all the personnel who’d worked here once upon a time. But right now, it housed two people that they were all familiar with. One, of course, was Nova. But the other….

Nova’s words came back to him.

_“Keep him safe, your reporter. Keep an eye on him. He’s getting closer to his answers, and the closer he is, the more of a danger he becomes. Watch him.”_

He should’ve asked, then: A danger to _whom_?

 _Well_ , his mind pointed out diplomatically even as his heart screeched watching the navy and black clad villain collide painfully with the wall, the League’s military liason’s predatory steps echoing through the compound as he prowled closer, _I guess that answers that_.

His heart screamed again as Nova pulled himself up from the crater he’d created in the wall, bones cracking as he straightened himself out, and obviously in pain. He sighed mentally, acknowledging in a small corner of his mind that no matter how much he’d fallen in love with his roommate, a part of his heart would also belong to the dark-vested villain with kind eyes who was currently being used as a punching bag. Cause there he went _again_ , creating another crater with the impact, struggling to even stand as the general chuckled and _watched_.

The man - the _general_ , a _general of the army_ , the _government was involved in this_ \- wasn’t watching him, didn’t even know they were there thanks to the shielding Haze had pulled over them, but the look of gleeful malice in dark eyes made him long to lock the bastard in a glacier and then _shatter_ it.

“You never do learn your lesson, do you?” the man finally sighed, the predatory, darkly satisfied gleam in his eyes betraying the exasperated, almost condescending tone he used.

“Heh,” Nova smirked, spitting out a glob of blood that spattered against the rubble and concrete at his feet, “Lessons that you tried to teach us? That would kind of defeat the point,” he snorted, darkly humorous as he shook himself off. The pain was still evident in the tense lines of his body, but he didn’t dare show it.

“And you were such a well-behaved little brat, too,” the man hummed, staring the younger down, an almost nostalgic smile growing under cruel eyes, “Shame you didn’t stay that way.”

“Well,” Nova said, eyes focusing on the other man’s hand as a fireball began to manifest around it, “when you kidnap kids from their families, commit inhumane experiments on them in the name of creating a genetically enhanced army of human weapons, you don’t get to complain about how much they _don’t like you_.”

General Winter felt his heart drop into his stomach and his face went pale as Nova braced, already scorched and shaking arms coming up with power bubbling at the ends of his fingertips. Haze’s forcefield flickered for a split-second in her shock, while Bounce’s low and heartfelt cursing resonated with all of them. He’d known there was more to Alfred’s story about the experimentation; hell, Nova’s comments _alone_ told him there was something he wasn’t saying. Something huge.

But this….

He was abruptly forced out of those thoughts when the dome flickered again, this time because of the impact, Haze grunting in order to stabilize the forcefield. 

The general who’d been the other half of this confrontation - who’d been at the top of the experimentation project, it seemed - had just _demolished half the room with one kick_.

Nova had vanished half the rubble in a black hole, but something was obviously wrong with him. He’d gone frightfully pale and - Ivan double-taked.

Yep. That was blood dripping from the corner of Nova’s mouth.

 _Internal bleeding_ , he thought, and inhaled sharply.

“Ah, yes,” the general said, smirk curling maliciously on his lips, “I see that failsafe worked out quite well.”

_Failsafe?_

Nova’s face curved into a snarl, “It doesn’t matter,” he spat at the man who’d just demolished half the room with one kick, “Failsafe or no, you’re not coming back from this. Even if it works, if you find all of them and revert everything we’ve done, it won’t matter. News outlets all around the world have the data. You can’t cover it up this time.”

Fire launched outwards this time, and Nova crashed backwards again, but this time he was slower to push himself upright. One arm was visibly shaking, and he almost cringed when he put weight on it. The general was still smiling, something cruel and deeply satisfied emanating from him.

“I wonder,” the general mused as he watched Nova stagger upright, “how much longer you have left to live, at the rate your powers are killing you.”

Nova glared at him poisonously, blood staining his lips, dripping down his chin, body half-broken but still standing strong, and promised, “I’ll live long enough.”

* * *

In the end, Nova came through. He hadn’t been able to get close enough to the general, but he hadn’t needed to. He’d lasted long enough for the general to get cocky, to stalk closer.

General Winter nearly had a heart attack when the man had gotten close enough to grab an already worn down Nova by the sprained arm, earning a bitten off whimper from the young villain. He’d looked even younger as the general loomed over him, and Bounce had to grab for Ivan before he ran out of the dome and skewered the bastard. Though, his own tight grip proved he wasn’t unaffected.

They hadn’t been able to intervene overly much, only General Winter’s abilities having an active combat application, without risking either Nova’s distraction, or the general’s escape. And with everything they’d heard, they couldn’t risk that bastard getting away. Now that Nova was stuck, they had to do _something_.

They’d all forgotten that the best bait for a cocky predator was injured prey.

Only, Nova was no one’s prey.

The first indication that Nova had played the bastard was the odd sound that had come from the bastard, the surprised expression that crossed his face something akin to disbelief. And then, Nova had smiled.

It wasn’t a nice smile, not by any means. It was a dangerous, vicious little thing; all bloody bared teeth in an expression of vicious triumph. His eyes gleamed, and he _smiled_ , and said, gently, “You always underestimated us.” And together, they looked down.

The general’s arm, wreathed in hellfire that burned when he wanted it to, was gripping Nova’s injured arm like vice, that was true. But Nova had moved his other hand and tangled it in the sleeve of the man’s free arm. A move that had seemed defensive, shielding - trying to push him away - had actually been an attack. Because from the palm of that hand, tangled in the general’s sleeve, a black hole had formed, right where the other man couldn’t escape from it.

“I thought about trapping you in there, you know,” Nova said calmly, like he wasn’t injured and about to kill another man, “sticking you in a black hole for the rest of existence. You wouldn’t die there, you know,” all the heroes flinched as the young villain’s tone shifted into something _concerning_ , “you’d live forever in eternal torment, only existing, for all of time. You’d be frozen, burning alive; you’d be crushed and stretched out, and torn apart in every meaning of the word for all of eternity, but it’d only be a single second. Me? I’m immune to what they do, they give me my powers. But you? You’d be insane within a year.” The black hole grew, cutting into the man’s abdomen, and the sound he made was tormented, “But I’d never be able to forget it. And you don’t deserve any ounce of my life more than what you’ve already stolen.”

The general’s hellfire arm spiked, and Nova’s breath hitched as it burned briefly before a thin layer of light wrapped around the arm, extinguishing it. The general snarled, “You won’t live much longer than I will, brat.”

Nova smiled, “But I’ll die in peace knowing that you’ve paid for everything you’ve done. Your legacy will be overwritten, your memory disgraced. Everything you worked for in life will be undone. Keep your satisfaction, you bastard. We’ve won in the end.”

And then Nova released his tight control of the black hole, and let it swallow them both.

In the split second before he vanished, Nova’s blue gaze drifted over them and widened. And then, he was gone.

The moment Nova vanished, his control on the black hole vanished and it spun and grew and _gorged_ on the burning compound around it. Haze’s dome had vanished seconds before Nova had, likely in a desperate effort to get to the young, goddamn _self-sacrificing supervillain_ , and oh god they had to find a way to stop that black hole from growing too big or it would - 

A small black hole rippled into existence in front of them, and Nova stepped out seamlessly, close enough to yank them all through. They stepped out right where they’d gone in, in front of the compound, right as the black hole devoured the entire building. And - shaking, one arm broken and burned, but stance firm - Nova wrenched the last of his control together and clasped his hands together, forcing the black hole right back into nonexistence.

And then, he crumpled to the ground, unnervingly still.

Haze swore.

General Winter was the first to get to Nova’s side, almost afraid to touch him for the fear of making any of his innumerable injuries _worse_ . But Nova was still alive, and they had to get him at least somewhat upright to keep him from choking on his own blood. They knew he was bleeding somewhere internally, they didn’t know _where_. Bounce, who was by far stronger than Ivan, moved the younger into a recovery position, doing a quick scan of his injuries and deemed it okay to move him over to the wall. Field trained by Yao himself, they wouldn’t argue with him until the ambulance arrived.

It was in that position, only a few minutes later, that Nova woke, shaking. Blood darkened under his nose and dripped down from his mouth and chin.

“G-general,” Nova coughed, and Ivan dropped to his one knee next to the wall they’d propped the young villain up against to face him, “General, I f-forgot.”

“What did you forget?” he asked softly, the other heroes moving away for a minute to give the younger a moment of privacy. Everything Nova had revealed fresh in their minds.

“L-left din-,” he coughed, blood dripping down his chin, “dinner.”

“Dinner?” he asked, bewildered. Nova snickered, and it twisted knots in the hero’s stomach to hear the familiar, mischievous sound broken by blood-spattered coughing.

“On the st-stove,” the younger said, “f-forgot to t-t-turn ‘t off.”

Okay, he told himself, not the weirdest thing for Nova to have forgotten.

“I’ll get it turned off,” he promised the villain, grip tightening on the younger’s shoulder as Nova’s eyes grew distant, trying to draw him back into reality. “Where do you live?”

Nova blinked at him, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. And then snickered again, this time free from the throat-wrecking cough. “W-with you,” he said, “Idiot.”

 _What_.

He stared at the villain. The villain who was a few years younger than him, with his hood and beanie seared or blown off, revealing the _blond hair_ atop _blue eyes_ and a mischievous smile that usually gleamed on that fair face that _he knew_.

 _Alfred, I’m going to murder you_ , he thought distantly, just as he had to snap back to reality when Nova - when _Alfred_ \- went slack in his grip. Bounce swore.

“Oh shit, someone _CALL A DOCTOR!_ ”

* * *

Nova had been almost comatose - half a step from dead, the frantic heroes on the scene remembered Yao declaring to them later - but a lucky chance and desperate teamwork had bought the young villain a new lease on life. Yao’s own gift had been able to slow the degradation, to draw it to a near halt as he set some of the league scientists on the hunt for a cure. In the end, it was the aid of another of the vigilantes whom Nova had been working with that ended up having the answer. The genius hacker - whose enhancement ability, ironically enough, was the ability to completely destroy the technology around them - had sent them an anonymous file, declaring that they hadn’t realized earlier who this had applied to, but now that they realized, they’d like to help.

When one of the scientists read it over for a third time, and realized it was actually the formula for the _cure_ to Nova’s genetic imbalance, they’d shrieked and dragged half the staff into a lab in order to generate the serum.

Nova had woken up in a familiar clinic, stripped down of everything but his underwear and his mask, to relieved green eyes. Arthur had been the first person to contact the Council, volunteering to make the serum given his familiarity with the original composition of it. He’d held enough sway with the enhanced community - particularly with Nova’s, with _Alfred’s_ , fellow conspirators coming out of the woods to throw their weight behind the pair of them - to grab custody of Nova and away the both of them to his clinic where the younger could wake up in a modicum of peace.

That didn’t mean, of course, that the League heroes weren’t patrolling outside, anxiously waiting for the once-thought young villain to wake up from something that should’ve killed him.

And Ivan. Who’d gone home in a daze, turned off the smoking cookpot on the stove, and ran back. And never left.

But that was an entirely different story.

While he slept and recovered from the genetic flaw that nearly killed him, the network of vigilantes Nova headed had come out of the woodwork, revealing themselves to be fellow escapees from the same government-led experimentation program. They’d been taking down the branches of the same program, in all far flung corners of the country, while Nova had been tasked with rooting it out, and being the distraction for the world to watch. The hacker who’d given them Nova’s cure had been partially responsible for the whisper campaign rallying people to Nova’s side even before the showdown. And now every news and media network had evidence of the government’s kidnapping and experimentation in black and white, and indisputable, as the government frantically tried to keep up.

For Nova, between one breath and another, the world had shifted. Justice was finally being done for all those who’d suffered under the aegis of that government funded torture. And, somehow, he was still alive.

“The goddamn stove, Alfred?”

 _Oh shit_.

Ivan peeled himself away from where he’d been standing in a carefully chosen shadowy corner against the wall, eyes piercing into blue, looking straight through the mask to the young man underneath, and Alfred winced.

“You think you’re _dying_ , and what do you say? ‘I forgot to turn the stove off,’” he scoffed, “and how I find out who you are? Because you’re _dying in my arms!_ ”

Oh boy, he’s in trouble. Ivan’s accent got really thick when he was pissed off, and at this point he could only make out half the words coming his way.

“Ivan -,”

“No, ‘Ivan, I’m in trouble,’ or no, ‘Ivan, there’s a reason why I’m looking into this.’ Instead, I get, ‘Ivan, I’m fine, there’s _nothing wrong with me_.’ HAH!”

Wow, you could really tell there was a height difference when Ivan was looming over him, infuriated and worried (but mostly infuriated, he’d tell you that himself).

“Ivan -,”

“And then, what happens? I watch you nearly _barbeque yourself_ , and throw yourself into a BLACK HOLE! We watch space documentaries together, Fedya, I know what black holes DO TO PEOPLE! NO, I do not CARE that you are immune!”

“ _Ivan_ -,”

“And _then_ , your doctor comes, and what he says? You _knew_ that you were DYING! And you say nothing to me, do not let me help, or take care of you - ,”

It was when he heard the words choking up in Ivan’s throat that he decided if Ivan wasn’t going to let him interrupt, he’d find another way to do it. Kissing him to shut him up wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind for their first kiss, but, well…

Ivan broke the kiss and stared at him.

Alfred took that chance, “Ivan,” he said, and threw all the sincerity he felt behind what he was about to say, “I - I didn’t think I’d survive this, _any_ of this,” he admitted. “I’ve had an expiration date, a ticking time bomb in my genes since I left the labs half a decade ago. I - I didn’t think I could have this,” his voice cracked, “that we could have this. And I wanted you to _know_ , if I died, I didn’t want you to wonder, to find out when they unmasked me -,” he shuddered for a moment, thinking of the utter devastation he would’ve felt had it been the other way around, “I - finding out it was _you_ behind the General’s mask was the best thing that ever happened to me, after meeting you in the first place. I just - ,”

This time, it was Ivan who shut him up.

But that was okay. Alfred could live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Lord, when I started this project, I knew it was going to be big. I didn't quite realize how big, but even now, I look at and think I could've put so much more detail into it. But as it is, I'm fond of it, so let me know what you think?
> 
> This also kickstarted a lot of inspiration, so be prepared for the series! As of yet, no sequel, but definitely little glimpses into this new verse of Project Stardust. It's the story behind how Nova was born, how Alfred and Ivan met, and then how Nova and General Winter did. All the little backstories I wanted to put in here, but couldn't might feature. If you enjoyed this fic, don't hesitate to let me know! I love reading y'all's comments!
> 
> Thank you so much for making it all this way!


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